Clueless

I close my eyes and search for some inspiration. then I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, and hope, hope that magically some inspiration hits me. I stare out the window and into the world beyond but again nothing. Nothing comes to me. Nothing screams for me to write. Again, I’m lost now more then ever. Everything I try just drives me farther into an endless labyrinth. I feel like I’m in a world were only nightmares live. I have to struggle to survive. I have to run, but I don’t know if its toward the exit or into the heart of the nightmare. Once in a while I see a small light in the distance that might be the way out, that might be an idea. I reach for it and just as my finger brushes against it, it disappears. And I plunge back into the nightmare and the darkness. I’m running through the labyrinth Just when I want to give up. As soon as I try to I’m blasted with a light brighter than a thousand suns. I jump up and charge toward it. I dash around corners and leap through openings, hoping to get there before it diminishes. It doesn’t. If anything it just glows more brightly with every step. I’m blinded, but I don’t care. I run as fast as my legs can carry me to the exit and the idea. I allow the idea to absorb into me. And I feel its warmth on my skin. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place. I realize I’ve had the idea all along. To write about being lost and clueless.

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Very well written! You've avoided repetitiveness, which can be so hard to do. I also really like the inspiration behind this. It's a nice idea, isn't it--writing just to write? You turned some mundane feeling that all of us poets have into a work of art. Great job! :)